


Midnight Snack

by BlackSkyandRoses



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Also because I need to see more of Origins-era Sass from Alistair, Because Alistair and his warden deserve to be happy, F/M, Fluff, Implied Smut near the end, King Alistair, Love, Reunions, Reunited and It Feels So Good, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 21:54:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4496142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackSkyandRoses/pseuds/BlackSkyandRoses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor returns to Skyhold and finds the King of Ferelden raiding her larder in the middle of the night. </p>
<p>Alistair x Warden reunion fic, because I love them so much and want them to be happy. Also some Cullen x Inquisitor, but for once they aren't the focus.<br/>Reunion fluff, true love, and Origins-era sass from my favourite warden.  </p>
<p>Big shoutout to sandonthebreeze for the beta and the title suggestion. Also for putting up with my Alistair feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Snack

“You know, I have to say the King of Ferelden is one of the last people in the world I’d expect to find raiding my larder in the middle of the night.”

Saragra leaned against the doorframe, smirking slightly at the man sitting at the large table in the centre of the kitchen. Normally it was used for meal preparation, groaning with ingredients as the kitchen staff bustled around frantically. At the current moment it held only a plate of cheese and a flagon of ale, and the only person using it was Alistair.

“Yes well, I had heard that the Skyhold kitchens had such a _lovely_ selection of cheeses, I had to come all the way from Denerim to see for myself.”

Saragra crossed the room, skirting around the sleeping mabari on the floor, and sat down next to Alistair. Snagging a wedge of cheese off of his plate, she took a hearty bite and grinned.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re raiding the larder in the middle of the night like a hungry recruit though.” she said, echoing her original statement.

Alistair cocked an eyebrow as he took a long draught of his ale.

“You know, a lesser man would make a joke about “raiding your larder”, _especially_ in the middle of the night.” he said cheekily.

“And normally I would reply that that is why lesser men don’t become rulers, but having just been to Halamshiral I believe I need to rethink that statement.”

Alistair snorted into his drink.

“Right, yeah. So glad that was you and not me. I’m pretty sure Empress Celene thinks I’m an idiot. She is still the Empress, right? At least she’s the snobby Orlesian that I actually know.”

“Technically, yes, she’s still in charge of Orlais. I basically banged all three of their heads together and made them promise to play nice. I highly doubt it’ll last after we close the breach and save the world, but next time I’ll just send in Josie to take over in a bloodless coup.”

Saragra wasn’t entirely sure how or why bantering with Alistair - _King_ Alistair, actually - was so comfortable, considering the last time she had seen him he had been in a righteous fury at the rebel mages and kicked them all out of his country. Well. Sort of. They hadn’t technically left Ferelden until they’d relocated to Skyhold.

They sat in surprisingly comfortable silence for a few minutes, making short work of the cheese Alistair had prepared. And painstakingly so, he would add.

Finally, he looked over at her, leaning back in his chair.

“You know, you haven’t asked me yet why I’m here… raiding your larder.”  

Saragra laughed. His sense of humour was exactly what Leliana had described: too cheeky for his own good. She liked Alistair immediately upon meeting him, in fact. He was a nice change of pace from the insufferable royalty and nobility that she had met so far.

“I figure you’ll tell me eventually. Or tomorrow morning Josephine will waylay me on the way to the breakfast table to tell me that the King of Ferelden is here and to pretty-please-for-the-love-of-Andraste be on my best behaviour.”

Alistair tipped his head back and laughed.

“Ah yes. I often get told to behave when we have very important guests myself.”

“Frankly, I’d much rather deal with the fade rifts than with visiting nobles. I usually have Cullen find something critically important for me to do elsewhere when they are around.”

Alistair noted the casual use of Cullen’s name and grinned. He would have to poke into that a little bit later.

“So. What are you doing here? I mean I know it’s your kitchen and all, but did you hear that the handsome King was visiting and you just couldn’t wait to see me again?”

Saragra smirked. He was handsome, she’d grant, but -

“Are you kidding me? Even the big bad Inquisitor is afraid of pissing off the Hero of Ferelden.”

Alistair’s expression changed, a momentary flicker of hurt and loss crossing his strong features. Only a second, but Saragra recognized the pain in those eyes.

“A wise one, you are. I suppose that’s how you got to be the big bad Inquisitor. Well that and being shoved out of the fade by Andraste. Or so I hear.”

Saragra snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Not you, too. Or are you making fun of me?”

“Me? Make fun of you, good lady, I would never!” Alistair put on a wounded expression.

Saragra cracked a weary smile.

“Alright. Since we’re not making fun each other, I’ll tell you why I’m in my kitchen if you tell me why you’re in my kitchen”

The mabari stretched and groaned in his sleep. Alistair glanced at him and smiled fondly.

“Leliana wrote me. She was maddeningly vague, as usual, but also quite insistent, also as usual. She basically called in every favour I ever owed her to bring me here for mysterious and vague reasons. I don’t even know if I actually owed her any favours. I wish she’d told me Morrigan was here in her letter, though.”

He looked faintly worried at the thought of Morrigan.

Saragra nudged him playfully. “I’ll protect you from her. Have no fear, my lord.”

Alistair smiled again, but it was tinged with sadness.

“Can I.. can I ask you something, Inquisitor?”

“Of course, my lord.” Saragra was remembering her manners. Josephine would have a stroke if she found out she’d addressed Alistair so casually. Yet it felt so.. natural to do so.

“Call me Alistair. Please. That is what I would ask of you.”

Clearly, he felt the same way.

“Certainly. As long as you call me Saragra. I’ve spent enough time fighting with people to use my name.”

Alistair snagged another mug from the pile on the table and filled it up alongside his own.

“To shedding those pesky titles and to being just Alistair and Saragra.”

They clinked their mugs, and Saragra drained hers in one go. Bull would be proud.

After another drink or two, and another plate of cheese, the newfound friends departed for bed.

 

The Next Morning Saragra awoke to the insistent sound of a frantic Josephine knocking on her bedchamber door.

“Inquisitor!” Josephine waylaid Saragra as soon as she opened the door.

“Good morning, Ambassador.” Saragra said wearily. “What can I help you with this morning?”

“An important visitor arrived last night. King Alistair of Ferelden -”

“-was raiding the kitchens for cheese and ale last night. I know. We had a few drinks and a midnight snack together.”

Josephine’s stopped in surprise, but recovered quickly.

‘I, well then. I guess you already know. Good.”

“I’m still not clear on why, however.”

“Ah, yes. Well, if you will accompany me to the war table, all will be explained.”

Josephine linked her arm with Saragra’s, and walked to the war room at a brisk pace, heels clicking.

When Saragra pushed open the heavy oak doors, she saw that the others were already assembled.

Alistair was leaning against a wall, looking out the window. Saragra noted with wry amusement that he was as far away as possible from Morrigan, who was standing with her arms crossed looking impatient. Cullen was studying troop movements at the war table, as usual, and Leliana was perched on the edge of the table, overlooking his formations.

“Ah, good. We are all here.” Josephine picked up her writing board and opened the meeting.

Saragra crossed the room and took her usual position beside Cullen, giving him a quick smile.

“Not quite, Josie.” Leliana slid off the table, looking happier than Saragra had ever seen her. Everyone turned towards her questioningly. Alistair raised an eyebrow, pushing himself off the wall. His breath quickened, and his heart thumped painfully. He couldn’t allow himself to hope, wouldn’t allow himself to hope, was helpless not to hope. He’d set himself up for heartbreak over and over again, countless times. Every time a visitor showed up unannounced in Denerim, every time someone knocked on his door unexpectedly, his hopes had risen only to be shattered over and over again. He glanced around the room for confirmation, but everyone else looked confused. Even Morrigan, who looked confused on top of her perpetually angry scary face.

He swallowed. trying to control the trembling in his fingers and the knot in his chest. If anyone could track her down it would be Leliana, who had been her best friend, aside from himself. He tried to shove thoughts of black hair shining in the sun and green eyes flashing in the firelight out of his mind, tried to focus on the war table and not the memories of her laughter.

The door swung open again, and Leliana was beckoning someone inside. Alistair glanced up, hardly daring to hope, hardly daring to _breathe_. He saw a flash of silver, sunlight reflecting off of armour. Deep blue, the colour of the wardens. The daggers he had crafted for her before she left, his love, both a warden and a queen. Alistair’s heart thumped painfully in his chest and he sprinted across the room, smashing his hip painfully into the massive war table, sending Cullen’s carefully arranged markers flying everywhere. Before she could even fully register who was in the room he had swept her up into his arms. Celeste, his wife, his queen, the love of his life. Two years away from him and his heart was breaking all over again, but from joy at her return instead of sorrow at her departure.

Celeste had barely registered anyone in the room when Alistair swept her off her feet. Maker’s breath, she’d barely seen _Alistair_ before he wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him and trying to keep her composure. The small vials hidden in her hip pouch had been worth every agonizing moment, but maker she’d missed him so fucking much. She tightened her hold, her fingers digging into his arms almost painfully, but neither one of them complained.

Alistair took a step back and looked at her, framing her face with his hands.

“Celeste…” his voice cracked, and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

She smiled, her eyes oddly bright. Dark green, the same shade he’d dreamt about for years.

“Alistair.” She whispered. “My love. I missed you so much…”

She raised up on her tiptoes and kissed him again, reverently. She was half afraid that this was all a dream, that she was going to wake up beside a campfire in the middle of nowhere, tears welling in her eyes, still months or years away from her goal.

But this, the feel of Alistair’s hand on her face, the warm weight of it against her cheek, this wasn’t a dream. It was _real_.  Tears welled up in her eyes, and started to spill down her cheeks.

“Hey now. None of that.” Alistair swiped a thumb gently across her cheek, and brushed away her tears.  He stepped closer, wrapping her up in his arms again. Celeste laid her head on his chest as he breathed in the familiar scent of her. She was wearing perfume. He’d given her a bottle of her favourite perfume before she left, partially as a joke, but partially so she’d have another piece of home to take with her.  He ran one hand slowly up her back, coming to rest at the back of her neck. Celeste, his wife, she was finally home again.

“Welcome home, my dear.” he whispered, kissing the top of her head.

“Home?” she whispered back

“Wherever you and I are together is home, my love.”

Alistair caressed her cheek lightly, lost for words. Behind him, the various people gathered in the war room shuffled around. Morrigan rolled her eyes and looked out the window, Leliana beamed at Josephine, who looked beside herself in delight. Saragra, meanwhile, slipped her hand into Cullen’s and squeezed tightly. She looked over at him, and realized he was looking studiously at the war table, attempting to give the couple some semblance of privacy.

Finally, Josephine broke the silence.

“Your majesty..majesties. Skyhold has a lovely garden, if you would care to partake in a stroll of the grounds…”

Alistair dragged his eyes away from Celeste, to look at the assembled members of the Inquisition.

“Lady Ambassador, that sounds lovely. Thank you.” He slipped an arm around Celeste’s waist, and the two hurried out of the room, eager to be alone and to talk.

“Inquisitor, I will arrange some sleeping quarters for the King and Queen of Ferelden, and see to it that they receive their next few meals in privacy.”

Saragra chuckled. They had just witnessed the most spectacular reunion of the Hero and Queen of Ferelden with her King and lover, and Josephine was already _planning_ , for mercy’s sake.

“I am to take it that you planned this sickeningly sweet reunion, Leliana?” Morrigan broke into the conversation, looking over at Leliana.

“I did. I wrote to Celeste again after we initially contacted her with an update on everything that had happened, and she told me when she was coming back. I knew she would want to see Alistair as soon as she could, so I told her I would arrange to have him here, which was quite a considerable distance closer than the royal castle in Denerim. This way, they get to meet earlier, we can put her discoveries to use with our alliances with the Grey Wardens, and Josephine gets bragging rights that the first place the royal couple visited was Skyhold.” Leliana smiled, looking incredibly pleased with herself.

From a distance, a muffled barking could be heard. It was frenzied and joyful, and loud enough that they could hear it even in the war room. Saragra smiled. Celeste’s faithful mabari had clearly been reunited with his mistress. Idly, she wondered about getting some mabari pups for the Inquisition. Cullen in particular would make a fine match for the Ferelden war dogs.

Suddenly, she realized Josephine was saying something.

“Hmmm? Sorry Josie, I was woolgathering.” she admitted, looking back over at the ambassador.

“I said, perhaps we could reconvene after noon hour, given the events of this morning.” she repeated, tapping on her clipboard.

Saragra nodded her agreement, and everyone slowly filtered out of the room. Outside in the main hall, the nobles were gossiping about the Ferelden royal couple, and Varric was scribbling madly by the fireplace.  

“Well. That was… unexpected.” Cullen said, coming up beside her. She looked over at him, her affection for him swelling.

“It was. But it was ingenious of Leliana to arrange this.” She paused, considering. She smiled slyly

“Cullen. I have an idea, if you would indulge me.”

Cullen glanced around quickly and pulled Saragra into a dark nook, hidden behind a large statue of Andraste.

“You know I’m always willing to indulge you, my lady.” he rumbled, his voice dropping into a lower timbre.

Saragra laughed, and stepped closer to Cullen, pressing into him.

“I was hoping you would, uh...perhaps like to spend the morning ‘raiding my larder?’”

Cullen was thrown by the question, though her seductive tone left no questions as to what she was implying.

“I...well that’s a new metaphor. Care to explain?” he dipped his head and pressed a kiss to Saragra’s neck, right above the spot where her pulse fluttered.

Saragra drew in a quick breath when he kissed her. They finally had a morning off, and she intended to take advantage of it  “I’ll explain later. Come on.”

 

 


End file.
